


august 1938, brooklyn

by apolliades



Category: Captain America (Movies)
Genre: Anal Fingering, Lazy Sex, M/M, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Pre-Captain America: The First Avenger, Pre-Serum Steve Rogers, Pre-War, Quintuple Drabble, Summer, Trans Steve Rogers, but you'd hardly be able to tell
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-06-27
Updated: 2019-06-27
Packaged: 2020-05-20 18:00:38
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 500
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19381882
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/apolliades/pseuds/apolliades
Summary: It's like a slow kiss.





	august 1938, brooklyn

Chocolate melting in its foil on the counter kind of hot. Condensation slipping like sweat down the neck of the bottle and leaving rings on the table kind of hot. Even smoking seems like too much work when the air is already so thick and close kind of hot. But not too hot to touch.

Sprawled out on the bed, both of them, window open wide curtains closed. Top to toe like when they were children, before. Almost undressed, Bucky's vest rucked up around his chest, sticking with sweat, shorts tugged half-way down his thighs, digging in where his legs are spread. He's on his belly, one leg half-folded, makes the angle nicer. Opens him up a little more.

Steve, in his open shirt only with the sleeves rolled up, before him and inside him; his fingers moving slow and lazy, just stroking and curling, never leaving. Bucky's mouth half-open making the pillowcase wet and his hand, between Steve's legs, making circles with the heel of his palm.

It's like a slow kiss. There's no goal, no beginning and no end in sight, no urgency, nothing to fight for or rush towards. A breeze sighs beneath the curtains, is it that or the gentle press of Steve's thumb that makes Bucky shiver, is it that or Bucky's fingertips that raises goose-bumps on Steve's skin.

Even coming is slow, hazy. Unpursued, it simply happens, in its own time. Bucky's toes curling. His hips lifting just a little, in unconscious fractions. His eyes stay closed, he makes a quiet, sleepy sound. A steady, warm glow, like leaving his body, like sinking under water.

Steve's fingers stay inside him. It's tender, but it doesn't hurt. For a while they doze, or do they. The line between awake and asleep long ago dissolved in the heat.

Fire hydrants broken open by kids playing down on the street kind of hot. Can't think can't move can't eat kind of hot. Let's just stay here, sweetheart, it's Sunday and we got nowhere to be kind of hot.

Dusk drawls in eventually, reminds them what cool air feels like, reminds them how to breathe. Steve uncurls himself like petals opening, pushes Bucky's hair back out of his dreamlike cherub face. After a moment, slowly, he smiles. Eyes closed. Opens them, slowly, Steve watches his pupils grow, before he leans in too close to focus. Kisses that taste of sweat and sleep.

Their voices both are rough and low from so long spent quiet. Let the wireless speak for them instead, then, sing into the evening.

Spend the night apart but for their fingers touching kind of hot. Wake in the morning with the blankets kicked off and twisted kind of hot. Linger for as long as they can and groan about how the hell is a person supposed to work in this weather kind of hot.

I love you, kissed into Bucky's mouth just before he opens the door. When you're done we'll go for ice cream.


End file.
